The Half-Elves of the Caribbean

I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters in it. (While I'm at it, I don't own Tenkuu no Escaflowne, LOTR, or The Matrix).

If you're confused about the characters, check the previous chapter. If you're still confused, please let me know, and I'll try to clarify! (Even if you want to know what a single phrase means!) Have fun, mate!

Chapter 2 The second time Sachima's replaced an Orlando character

Sachima hated meetings, especially international ones with the other, stupid countries. That's why he had gone to bed early last night, grabbed a good play by Raskun, and cranked up an opera by him. He must have fallen asleep somewhere in there. He didn't hear the opera playing, so Mushei (his wife) must have come in and turned it off. He rolled over, and kissed her lightly on the neck (A/N: this is after Sachima becomes emperor, so he's not as violent as some of the other fic's . . .)
"Mmm . . . good morning."
He started. Whose voice was that? His eyes flew open, and he shrieked and jumped back. The blonde girl stared at him in confusion.
"Oh no!!!" he moaned. He beat his fists against his head.
"NOnononononononononononono!!!!!" he groaned.
"Will!" she exclaimed, "Are you all right?"
"No!! I am most definitely NOT Ok!!!!" he shook his head, "I hope whoever does this to me dies!!" (A/N: he means whoever's in charge of sticking him in these fanfics, like Escaflowne and LOTR and The Matrix . . .)
The blonde girl rushed to his side.
"What's wrong? What happened?" she asked worriedly. He shook her off and stood.
"Nothing! I had a bad dragon—dream! I had a bad dream!"
"What's happened to you?"
"Nothing! Look, just . . . stay here, all right? I'll be right back," he headed for the door, then realized that he should probably get dressed. He found some clothes that had been strewn haphazardly about, and threw them on. He was out the door before the blonde girl could even so much as say anything. He slammed the door shut and looked about at his surroundings.
"Looks like a blacksmith's shop or something . . ." he noted.
"Will!" the girl appeared in the doorway. All she was wearing was a nightgown, "Will! What's gotten into you?"
Sachima sighed. What could he say? That he was an elf emperor from a different world? Not if he wanted this "Will" guy's marriage to stay intact.
"Sorry," he managed, "'dear', I, just had a very vivid bad dream, that's all."
"Must have been some dream!" she observed.
There came a knock at the door. Sachima went and opened the door. A man with a ridiculous looking white wig was standing there.
"Will Turner?"
"Yes?" Sachima assumed.
"I have a request from the new governor, he would like a sword made."
"A sword?" Sachima pricked up his ears. That was the best word he had heard so far.
"Yes, so if you could—"
"Not right now, I'm busy," Sachima interrupted, closing the door.
"But sir! The governor!"
"Yes, I understand, good bye! Bye!" He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. The blonde girl stared at him in confusion.
"What has gotten into you?"
"I don't know, I feel out of sorts today."
"You just shut the door in the governor's servant's face!" she scolded, heading for the door. She pushed him aside and began to open it. He slammed it shut again.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"You, I, y-you're not dressed!" he said.
"I hardly care if a well-bred servant sees me in this state. I do care if you turn down a commission like this, though!"
"Look! Why don't you go and get dressed, and I'll go find him? Is that all right?"
She glared at him, but went to get dressed anyway. Once she was out of sight Sachima screamed silently and rushed outside. Fortunately the servant wasn't there anymore. He was in a corner of a dirt road, with two story buildings all about. Men and women and dogs were milling about, carrying items or chasing each other. The smell of . . . SOMETHING unpleasant reached him and he gagged. He hurried down a road he thought led away from the smell, and eventually got a breath of fresh air. He came to a flight of stairs and could see the ocean. Ships with masts and sails were moored out in the bay. One especially large one with three masts was furthest out, but called a great deal of attention to itself. It was, after all, a magnificent ship.
From there Sachima could just make out the name: The HMS Locke.

(, so . . . whatcha think? I know it's short, but . . . anyway, review please! Luv you alls! Bye!